


Miles To Go Before I Sleep

by Pale (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Pale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second of April, 1998, is in no way special for the Slytherin seventh years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles To Go Before I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vaysh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/gifts).



> Many thanks to [tetley](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tetley) for the fantastic beta.
> 
> Written for [hp_footballbets](http://hp-footballbets.livejournal.com/) for Vaysh, whose great prompts ( _Seventh Year, self-discovery of cross-gender identity_ ) gave me the much needed incentive to finally write what had been on my mind for a very long time.

_When he thinks about it later, much later, wriggling his big toes in front of the fireplace and watching the play of shadow and flames, he wonders what had made that day so special._

The second of April, 1998.

Even the Slytherin seventh years hadn't been much in the mood for April Fools' that year. It was a tired bunch, hanging around the Common Room the morning of the second, sweating out whatever Alecto had put into the punch bowl _as a little prank_ the evening before.

Millicent gritted her teeth at the memory of that toothless giggle. She hated her teacher with a passion. It wasn't that Professor Carrow was an incompetent fool, Millicent didn't care for Muggle Studies one way or the other. No, it wasn't her (non-existing) qualities as a teacher that rubbed Millicent the wrong way whenever she laid eyes on her.

Draco looked even paler than usual. He was talking to an unimpressed Greg, and Millicent could hear fragments of high-flying plans for revenge. The word "Potter" was prominent in his speech, uttered with so much hatred that Greg finally had to move a leaden arm to wipe the spittle from his face. "Potter," Draco hissed again, and a small smile formed on his lips as he depicted yet another imagined triumph over his arch-enemy.

 _The old man by the fire chuckles. Sometimes things turn out different than expected. He reaches over to the occasional table where his drink is sitting, seventy-year-old Old Ogden's Finest, a Christmas present from the Malfoy family. Or the Potters. Whatever they're calling themselves right now. It's hard to keep up with all the divorces and reconciliations, most of them made up by The Prophet, but still … Draco and Harry are the living embodiment of the saying that there's a thin line between love and hate._

Millicent's hatred was of a very different nature.

Alecto Carrow had singled her out the moment she first stepped into the classroom. The new professor had looked over the small group of students – the few Hufflepuffs who still hadn't realized the change of times, and the even fewer Slytherins whose parents were indebted to the Carrows in some way. Cockeyed and leering, she had pointed a stubby finger at Millicent. "You stay after lesson."

And so Millicent was stuck with the thankless task of cleaning up after what Alecto called, _our little fun sessions_. Millicent didn't know where all the Muggle children came from, but she could easily guess where they went after having served as demonstration objects in class. She took great care not to look into their hopeless eyes when she led them back to their cages, and once she had managed Imperio, she saw to it that they could escape to a different place in their minds.

Alecto explained how it was an honour to serve as her _second in command_ , and how she would recommend her to their Lord once she had sat her N.E.W.T.s. Millicent knew, of course, that the Carrows' influence didn't reach that far, but she owed it to her mother, second cousin and childhood friend to Amycus and Alecto, to put up a brave front.

And so she suffered it when Alecto became too chummy. Suffered it when she put an arm around her shoulders and babbled endlessly, smothering her with her rancid breath. Suffered it even when she squeezed her breasts and repeated Mother's words. "Looks like you're a girl after all."

 _The old man by the fire downs his Firewhisky and pours another one immediately. His hands are shaking._

Millicent's mother was a simple woman. Her life goal was to raise good future Death Eaters and their devoted wives. When it turned out that Millicent was different, a tomboy who loved to play Beater and hunt for snakes and snails and other crawling potion ingredients in the nearby woods, she set strict rules. Frilly pink frocks and ballet lessons. Balancing books on the head. Needless to say that all her efforts were in vain.

When Millicent's breasts started to grow, it was as if Mother had finally won.

After realizing that he couldn't hold Greg's attention any longer, Draco stood and left. Millicent watched Vince and Greg retreat to the far corner of the room, sticking their heads together and producing small flames at the tips of their wands. She shook her head. Amycus was an even bigger moron than his sister. To think that he taught something as dangerous as Fiendfyre at his Duelling Club. Millicent remembered the old stories of whole castles razed to the ground. There was a reason that Fiendfyre was outlawed as a weapon of war since the Middle Ages. Amycus must think that he could make history that way. It was only reassuring to know that neither Greg nor Vince would ever master an advanced spell like that.

The aftereffects of Alecto's prank had nearly worn off. Millicent rose to wobbly feet and followed Draco to the bathroom. She found him bent over one of the basins, cooling his face in the running water.

"There you are," he greeted her after turning off the tap.

"Have you got it?"

A potion vial and a pouch of Galleons changed hands. They nodded at each other. Millicent had the sudden impulse to comfort Draco, and maybe he felt the same. They didn't say a word, but they stiffly patted their backs as they passed one another. Then Millicent was alone with her prize.

 _The old man by the fire reminisces about teenage awkwardness. He's still no great talker, but he has learned how freeing it can be to confide in someone. Of course, in order to do so, you need to know who you are._

The idea with the Polyjuice Potion had occurred to Millicent last year when Vince and Greg had boasted about their adventures as little girls. They had claimed that their sexual prowess had improved considerably, now that they knew _everything_ about women. Millicent doubted it, but she wasn't interested in sex anyway.

It had been a strange experience, not being yourself and still being more yourself than ever before in your whole life.

Since this memorable first time, Millicent had repeated the experience whenever possible. After Slughorn had noticed the Polyjuice thefts and begun to guard his stores more closely, she had asked Draco to brew the potion for her. He had agreed without asking questions. Whether he was simply bored out of his mind or desperately in need of money after his father's fall from grace, Millicent didn't know.

She unstoppered the vial. Despite being used to magic all her life, Millicent had only lately realized its true power. The foul-smelling liquid in her hands held the key to freedom and peace of mind. She added three yellow hairs from a folded paper. Yaxley was as good a choice as any. No one would question a Death Eater patrolling the halls these days, and Millicent could finally enjoy to feel _right_ again. In tune with the world. Real.

The potion turned blood-red as Millicent added the hairs. All of a sudden it disgusted her. She remembered what she had to do to obtain the hairs. Yaxley's hand in her robes, painfully squeezing a nipple. The other hand like a vice, forcing her hand downwards and into his open fly. A slimy tongue in her ear.

And worst of all, Mother's approving smile.

Millicent had freed herself. Kicked him in the balls so hard he'd doubled over and puked. The other Death Eaters at the table had roared with laughter. Except for Draco, who had given her a secret thumbs up behind his mother's back. Millicent might never be invited to one of the Lestranges' soirees again, but she could live with that.

But not even the memory of her triumph could make the blood-red concoction more palatable. Yaxley's essence spoiled everything. Millicent didn't want to be _him_ , she wanted to be herself. Wanted to be herself in a man's body. Completely and truly herself. Himself.

She opened the tap and poured the Polyjuice into the basin. As she watched it drain away in bloody swirls, she realized something. Magic was a powerful tool, and nearly everything should be possible. If a potion or spell didn't already exist to make her body fit her identity, she would bloody well make sure that it was invented.

 _The old man by the fire smiles. So much time has passed, but he still remembers that moment as if it happened only yesterday. He yawns and stretches his limbs. He mustn't get too comfortable and fall asleep in front of the fire. His back would make him regret it tomorrow. Time to go to bed._

For the Slytherin seventh years, the second of April 1998 was in no way special. It was still another month until Vince would manage to create Fiendfyre and die. Still another month until the world they knew would cease to exist. But for Millicent, everything changed that day.

It was the day Miles Bulstrode was born.


End file.
